


Going Home

by Lilachigh



Category: Ballet Shoes - Noel Streatfeild
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:52:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilachigh/pseuds/Lilachigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Pauline and Posy moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Home

Going Home  
By Lilachigh

The atmosphere backstage of big theatres always seemed the same to Pauline Fossil. She could have been blindfolded and put down anywhere in the world and known where she was. But tonight the atmosphere backstage at this particular theatre was different. There was a buzz, a hum in the air, a different excitement that you could almost taste. Her little sister, Posy, was dancing Giselle and it seemed all of Los Angeles was here to see her.

Pauline was used to stardom in the world of both cinema and theatre, but knew no one would ever rave about her the way the papers raved about Posy. The word ‘genius’ had even been mentioned, although the girl in question seemed supremely unconcerned about her reviews. 

“Honestly, Pauline,” she’d said yesterday, throwing the papers carelessly onto the floor. “I fell off my pirouette in the second act and did you see my arabesque upstage left in the middle of the last duet? I must have looked like a bandy stork. And no one has said a single word about it!”

“Shocking!” Pauline had replied gravely, trying not to smile, staring down at the red curls of the girl curled up on the sofa, massaging cream into her toes.

And tonight was going to be another show stopping performance. Except – Pauline’s fingers grasped the telegram in her pocket. “Petrova in plane crash. Asking for you both. Can you come?”

A taxi left the stage-door twenty minutes later. Pauline sat gazing out of the window, watching streams of people leaving the theatre. Posy’s cold hand crept into hers and she remembered a very long time ago a little girl saying, “When I dance, nobody else will do instead of me; they’ll come to see me and, if I’m not there, they’ll just go home.”


End file.
